Don't Wait

It’s been another full day of repeated lessons. The one that stands out the most is “don’t wait until it’s too late.” I know this one all too well because I would crumble to pieces if regret didn’t hold me together. A mesh of the HBO show, “True Blood” and the movie, “Remember Me” came together today to echo this lesson to me.

Why again? I wonder. Well, we’re half through the year and it’s a good point to stop and check on the progress of those great promises I made to myself as New Year’s resolutions. Let’s see, number one resolution: tell people what you really think and feel. That was going okay until some things, or someone, blindsided me so badly I can’t even begin to explain so I can’t tell them when I don’t understand myself. Number two resolution: work on public speaking. Well, I had been working on it until the problem with number one resolution got in the way. My plans were to start going to a Toastmasters meeting regularly, but big news today threw that out the window, at least for a year. Oh, best laid plans.

Am I waiting until it will be too late? One of the main characters of “True Blood” tells another to say what they need to say to people important to them before it’s too late. Appropriate to the plot line, but when I heard it a second time, it held deeper meaning in the presence of other people. Then the movie, “Remember Me”, made it bluntly clear not to wait to tell or show someone how much you care for them. (Yes, I finally saw it and the post about that is here).

But, what I need to express isn’t something I should say. What I think and feel is only important to me. I’m not so full of hubris to assume anyone else gives a damn. Even with this post, it’s just a release more than making sure the rest of the world knows about it.

Marking this half way point of the year made me realize I don’t have to successfully complete the resolutions by the end of the year; I just have to work on them. And, I do every day just like this older post. 

Late Letter to My Late Dad

When I was little I didn't understand why you left, didn't come back, call or write.
On the occasions I did see you, I was scared of you. You were like a stranger.
I remember the only time you punished me was for hiding in the dark with a friend and not answering your call.
As punishment, you gave me a mile-long list of words and their definitions to memorize;
words like responsibility, respect, discipline and dignity. It was my 10th birthday.

I saw you less and less as I grew up, the last time at Leigh's wedding in 1996.
So many words I didn't say, haven't said until now.
Now that I'm not your daughter and you're not my dad, I understand.
You were human, fallible. You made bad decisions.
I realize now how difficult life can be and how easily bad decisions can be made.

I didn't have a wedding because I couldn't tell you not to walk me down the aisle.
I didn't introduce you to your grandson because I couldn't explain to him my feelings about you.
I didn't come to your funeral because we had said our goodbyes long ago.
Now that you've been gone five years I can finally say, I forgive you.
It was always too late to ask you to forgive me.

Absence of Desire is Death

I wrote this down a couple of months ago: happiness is the absence of desire. Derivative of one of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, I read it again today and decided it was wrong, dead wrong.

My point of view then was like waiting for a huge wave to come on shore. I thought if I held onto enough apathy about things I could not be sad or hurt. But I couldn’t even begin to be apathetic about life and happiness found me. When life should be crushing in on me, I’m happy. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in denial. I’m scared to death but with a serenity that comes from somewhere else.

Now, when I close my eyes at night, happiness is the last thing I see before I fall asleep. Happiness is the first thing that meets my eyes when I wake even before I open them.

Focusing on that happiness keeps me going day after day. It makes me float into the clouds when things try to weigh me down. It makes me strong when blows come too close together. It makes me giddy with laughter when the tears threaten. It makes me feel everything will be okay when I need it most.

Absence of desire is death. Living is not just about having passion, but expressing it. Being able to express it is happiness.

A Thousand Times and One

My words cut deeply, unintentionally and my mortification still grows.
I am sorry.

My point was left unmade as usual and the hurt overflowed in your eyes.
I am sorry.

My insensitivity is my stupidity and all I can do is ask forgiveness.
I am sorry.

My heart hurts that you hurt because of my shortcomings.
A thousand times, I am sorry.

Please forgive me.

 

My Furry Little Bloggers!

Inspired by an article at Mashable.com about cats tweeting and blogging, I began to wonder what my cats would blog about.

I have six cats and three blogs. If each blog is monitored by two cats, I still have to clean the litter box. : )

One of my blogs is what comes out of my creative right brain (yeah, right, in my dreams), one blog comes from the logic left brain (ha, again!) and the third is what I call my deepest current.

For the right brain blog, with creativity, wonderment and confusion, the cats would post all the fun of playtime, the chase, the hide-and-seek, and staying up all night. Would their blog posts be about seeing imaginary things in the air to cutely paw at or be about the secret place they hide my hairbands?

On the left brain blog, and because I think most of my cats are strategic in everything they do, I imagine I would find out the truth of what happened the day I came home to find two of my science fiction books chewed to shreds (thanks for saving the covers, Einstein). The books were on a shelf over 6 1/2 feet off the ground, one of the favorite jumping off places for the cats to and from another shelf. Did they plan it? Did they know how upset I would be at the loss of these vintage books? Did they sit there looking down their superior noses from high above at the canines in the floor? Did the cats laugh behind their paws or smile directly at the dogs while thinking of the whirlwind they would reap when I got home? I hope they would write about it to share their sneaky strategy with other felines. Knowledge is power, and if it works, it can be hilarious!

My cats' posts about their deepest feelings on my third blog would possibly be a confession of how much they really love the dogs they torment so much, an admittance of how vulnerable they truly are despite their haughtiness, or a recount of the dream about the brown tabby tom down the alley. Tsk, tsk, girls! You're spayed already!